


The Case Of The Curious Fawn

by bennyslegs



Series: Fawnlock RP!~ [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-22
Updated: 2012-07-22
Packaged: 2017-11-10 12:32:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/466298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bennyslegs/pseuds/bennyslegs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fawnlock is tired of the forest. He's learnt all he can, and he's bored. Conveniently, he stumbles upon a small cottage housing a very human John Watson, who is the opposite of boring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Case Of The Curious Fawn

**Author's Note:**

> More Fawnlock! Fawnlock has kinda become my hobby right now, along with my trusty sidekick krista (http://invinsiblesarcasm.tumblr.com) we have been having a lot of fun with Fawnlock and human John. We have a tumblr for him now (http://fawnlock.tumblr.com) where people can submit all kinds of Fawnlock related things. We encourage everyone to contribute whatever they like!
> 
> Little butterfly Watson was precious and we'll always remember him, but as you know, butterflies aren't long for this world.  
> So we came up with the idea of shoving the real John Watson into Fawnlock's forest, to see what hijinks ensue.  
> We are RPing for fun, we're both okay writers - you won't find any masterpieces here but it's mainly just for ourselves, and anyone else who wants to dip their toes in our Fawnlock pool :3
> 
> Posts go mine first (paula) and then kristas, then mine, then hers etc. I am Fawnlock, she is John.  
> We're making it up as we go along, so it won't be perfect, BUT FUN!

Fawnlock took a deep breath. This was the first time he'd been given “permission” to leave his temporary home, a small cottage in the middle of (his) forest, inhabited by a small but compact man who apparently went by “John”. Not that it mattered to Fawnlock in the slightest, he hadn't quite grasped human words yet, so couldn't say anything, even if he wanted to.  
He'd hurt himself, (and that's all you'll hear about it) and John had taken him in. After forcing Fawnlock into a very comfortable rectangular thing, he'd popped something into his mouth and Fawnlock had slept almost instantly. Interesting. Fawnlock decided, upon waking up, he'd stick around and find out as much as he could about this John and his peculiar home. Of course, when John forbid him to leave the house until the next day, Fawnlock had obeyed purely for research. That was his story and he was sticking to it.

Laying on his back with his feet flat on the floor, he burrowed his toes into the dirt and sighed at the pleasant contrast of cool mud and warm sun, warming him from head to toe.  
He was starting to doze off, when he heard a small bang come from John's cottage. (Whatever he'd ingested the night before, was it still in his system? Possible. Too sleepy to care) Only when a louder bang followed, did his ears prick up involuntarily, curiousity getting the better of him. What was that?

~~~

John angrily slammed at the stove; taking his anger out on the old thing for not working correctly. It was old and beginning to rust. It didn’t heat up the way it used to. He sighed, frustrated from trying too many times and too tired from previous work to continue messing with it. He looked outside the window to his left near the counter. He watched the Fawn laying in the dirt and grass outside of his cottage; not so far away from his vegetable garden. It was one of the first times he had gotten to go out since his injury. Luckily, he had recovered fast with John’s help. He made his way to the back door, opening it to go outside in the back. He smiled and shielded his eyes from the sun, heading towards the small creature just ahead of him.  
“Nice day today out here, isn’t it? You’re probably enjoying the sun.” He now stood next to him, gazing out into the shady woods just up ahead. “Stay in the dirt like that and I’ll have to give you a bath later.”  
He fondly thought of the first time he attempted that. He received several bruises to his stomach. It wasn’t pretty, but at least the small creature smelled nice. “It’s been a while since you’ve been outside. Must be nice to feel the earth again, right?”  
He knew he probably couldn’t understand him well, but it beats talking to himself any day.

~~~

Fawnlock looked up at John through his lashes, his words washing over him. He couldn't even begin to attempt to feel enthusiastic about anything right now. John appeared to not be in distress, so the bangs were nothing to worry about. Not that he was worrying. Fawnlock wondered why John still talked to him even if he knew full well that Fawnlock didn't understand him. Perhaps he was hoping Fawnlock would learn, and keep him company? It must be lonely being in the middle of the woods with no one to talk to. Humans seemed very social, Fawnlock had deduced as much. They often came in packs to the forest, and very rarely alone. Why was John here alone? Maybe he'd ask him when he learnt to talk. He had every faith he'd be able to talk human in no time. He was a genius, after all.  
He stretched, wiggling himself a little deeper into the mud. His skin had felt soft, and smelt strange, (clean?) after John had dunked him into a tub full of warm water last night. Fawnlock had been quite out of it from the pain, and in his disorientation, he fuzzily remembered attacking John with his antlers a few times. Even if he could, he wouldn't say sorry, though he probably shouldn't have done it. He couldn't help being frightened. As well as being hurt, his senses were all being bombarded with new information to take in, and it was too much. Even geniuses get overwhelmed sometimes.  
If he hadn't been frightened, he may have enjoyed the experience. The water was warm (something Fawnlock had never experienced before. Even on the hottest days, puddles we're always cold). He tried to tell himself he was getting muddy to restore the balance of his skin, and absolutely not because he was curious to repeat the whole thing over with a lot less antlering, this time. He hoped he hadn't hurt John too bad. Perhaps John would let him look at the wounds. Maybe he'd broken the skin. Would John let him lick them clean? Was that acceptable amongst humans?  
Fawnlock gave a huff as he pushed himself into a crouching position, reaching forward towards John's stomach. Grasping the material, (Why does he wear these things? It's not cold? Curious.) Fawnlock tugged John's shirt upwards to get a good look at his antler marks.

~~~

John reacted immediately, grabbing the anxious hand moving towards his stomach and pushing it away from the area. It was a bit sudden and harsh, but he didn’t want the small creature to feel bad; not that he was assuming he would. He tried a warming smile, hopefully to shake the mood that came with the sudden event.  
“There’s nothing special underneath there, I promise you.” He sat beside the young fawn and eyed at his ankle. “Does that still hurt you any? I don’t want you playing around too harshly. It might start bugging you again.”  
It was odd talking to someone who couldn’t understand you, but then again, people do talk to their dogs, right? But unlike dogs, this creature was capable of understanding; he just had to teach him. He looked around and thought for a moment. He was trying to think up ways to communicate; so they could learn from each other- understand each other. He looked at the way the fawn moved in the wet soil. ‘That could be a start’ he thought.  
He reached over and grabbed a handful of mud, moving it just close enough so that the creature could pay attention.  
“Mud.” He opened his hand, revealing it as it seeped through his fingers. “Mud.” He repeated.

~~~

With John's light rebuke disregarded, (perhaps he'd attempt it another time. No matter) Fawnlock's attention was now entirely on John's hand. Yes, that was mud. But what was John saying? Was he saying the human term for mud? Ah, he was attempting to teach him! Yes. Definitely very lonely. Desperate to converse. Fawnlock wasn't to judge, he wasn't about to bite the hand that was feeding him (both metaphorically, and literally.) John could talk to Fawnlock, and curb his loneliness, and Fawnlock would be one step closer to being the smartest thing in the forest.  
Fawnlock cleared his throat. He looked up at John, then quickly looked away. He didn't need any encouraging looks, he could do this.  
“Mmmm.” Fawnlock felt the vibration in his throat, it tickled a little but he tried again, “M-muh-” He took a deep breath. “Mu-uh-d.” He looked up at John expectantly, not even bothering to hide his grin. No need for modesty, he was brilliant, and he'd said his first word already. Of course he had.

Apparently, learning to talk was hungry work, as Fawnlock's stomach conveniently rumbled, making it's presence known. Maybe that's why baby humans moaned and cried so loud during their walks with their parents in the forest. All that learning, they were probably hungry. Fawnlock had long ago learned to ignore his stomach, it got fed when it got fed and that was that. More pressing things were at hand – Learning more. Fawnlock leaned his face towards John hands and nuzzled gently with his nose as if to say, 'more'. More words, more knowledge.

~~~

John’s mouth crinkled into a smile. “Brilliant. You’re absolutely brilliant.”  
The farmer had heard the slight grumble in the fawn’s stomach, but he was too overjoyed with the simple fact that the creature was learning. To have a full conversation with someone; not just someone, but a creature he never seen before in his life; It was a brilliant thought. Since the fawn was hungry, he decided to walk over to the garden and pull out a carrot, a radish, and a head of lettuce. He walked back over eagerly, sitting back down in the wet surrounding full of mud, grass, and dew. John lifted up the carrot, pronouncing it slowly so he could hear each syllable then saying it normally so he could hear it mashed together.  
“And this one is a radish!” He lifted the round and bright red vegetable from the leaf, holding it close to the fawn so he could get a good look. “Rah-dish.”  
He set it beside the carrot and smiled. “These are the things you eat, Fawn. See? Like this one. It’s your favourite, I can tell.” He lifted up the bright green head of lettuce. “This one is called Lettuce. Let-us.”  
He set it down next to the other two and stared at the creature, hoping he’d understand. He wasn’t expecting him to get it right away, since he was just beginning the grasp of English, but he truly did hope he would get at least one of them correct.

~~~

Fawnlock sat cross legged, frowning at the vegetables before him. To those who didn't know him, (everyone but his brother) he must look angry. But he was deep in thought, working over what he'd just listened to, trying to make sense of it. Slotting things in the right places. He was never happier than when he was working something out. The opposite of bored. Beautiful.  
“Car-it” He declared, pointing directly to the radish, not doubting himself for a second. He looked at John, expecting more praise. (He'd assumed he had received praise, the smile on Johns face as he'd spoken said as much.)  
This time, John shook his head slightly, a sort of sad smile about his mouth. Pity. Fawnlock wouldn't stand for it. Mistakes were unacceptable! He snorted through his nose harshly, and flicked his ears in irritation. Perhaps his hunger, and the pain left over from last night, were working together to throw him off track. That was definitely it. He kicked at the lettuce so it rolled away, and turned his back harshly, arms folded. His eyes prickled uncomfortably and for an wild moment he was scared he was going to cry. Taking a deep breath, he realised he wasn't about to cry (of course he wasn't) – he was just tired. He was still healing. Stupid body. He thought back to a little while ago where he had been happily dozing in the sun. He looked up to see fat grey clouds now obscuring any chance of further warmth, and he settled further into his sulk. Maybe John would do the right thing and carry him to that nice, warm rectangular thing again. Fawnlock suddenly longed to smell it again, the deep earthy smell of human man, sweat and warmth and body. The smell had surrounded him as he'd fallen asleep. Fawnlock wasn't entirely sure why he found that soothing, or why he craved it so much right now, but he was tired and his energy burst from showing off had dissipated. He let himself slump to the side, laying down in the mud once again. But now the mud was cold, and not welcoming at all. He'd only known this human for a 24 hours at most, and already he was craving his human ways of life. Was he so easily tamed? If being tamed meant comfort, and warm smells, he was sure he could deal with it. For now.

~~~

John sighed, reaching over to pet the obviously upset creature next to him. He could feel the temperature change in the woods; a bit breezier, slight chance of rain most likely. He got up and brushed off his pants, getting rid of the grass and dirt that clung onto the fabric. He picked up the vegetables off the ground, making sure that they wouldn’t go to waste since they were plucked out of the ground and had no further use than to be eaten. He then looked at the stubborn fawn. He should probably take him inside now; wouldn’t want him getting sick by staying in the upcoming rain. He placed the carrot and the radish in the pocket of his overalls; the lettuce would have to wait for a second trip. He then made his way over to the young fawn sulking on the ground. He released a slight chuckle and bent over, picking him up gently and taking him inside. He wasn’t aware that the Fawn’s ankle was still bugging him. All he knew is that the fawn needed another bath, some food, and some more rest. He sat the creature down on the stool in the kitchen, walking over to the stove to pull off the small washing cloth hanging from the handle. He then made his way back towards the creature. He bent down on his knees and picked up on of his legs delicately, wiping off some of the mud on his legs.  
“You really shouldn’t have sat down in the mud. You know how much trouble you gave me yesterday when I tried cleaning you?” He pulled away and looked up at him, slightly brushing the cloth near the ankle bugging him.

~~~

Fawnlock yawned, oddly relaxed and comforted by John's babbling. Bad mood completely forgotten, he stared down at this fascinating human who was taking such good care of him. When he was in a strop, everyone avoided him. Why was he still here?  
The soothing motion of John gently wiping off the mud was pleasant, too. He felt quite pampered. He smiled contentedly, and in moment of quick decision, leaned forward and wrapped his arms around John's neck, snuggling his face in close, right under John's jaw. John's natural smell was strong here, and Fawnlock momentarily considered where else on John it may be strong, too. Under the arms, surely. Mmm. He sighed, he could get used to this. He could feel sleep taking over him, and decided to give up the fight, and accept it. His mind foggy with fatigue and feelings he wasn't quite sure what to do with, he acted without thinking – and gently licked a small patch of John's neck. 

~~~

John paused instantly; tense and surprised by the creature actually showing feeling and emotion towards him. Was this his way of thanking him? He relaxed a bit, pulling away to put the cloth on the counter.  
“Well,” He paused, trying to find the words to say. “That was unexpected. I was starting to think you disliked me with all that fussing you give me.” He noticed the sway in the creature’s position, and the sudden hint of tiredness consuming his face.  
“Already getting tired, are we? I thought you were hungry?” He reached over and scratched behind one of the fawn’s ears. “I’ll make some porridge for you. How does that sound? Something warm for that belly of yours. That’ll set you to sleep peacefully.” He got up and headed over to the cupboards down below, grabbing a small pot to cook with. He then looked at the stove.  
“Well, it will if this damned stove will work.” John poured water into the pot and set it on one of the burners on the stove. He then turned the knob once more to see if it would work. He growled with the response and kicked the stove in disapproval. If all be damned, the stove began to heat up slowly and the water began to boil. ‘Luck, obviously.’ He smiled to himself.  
He grabbed a small packet of oats from a bag and tore it open, dropping the insides inside the pot. After just a few minutes, it was done. A little bit of sugar and cinnamon there, and it was in a bowl ready to give to the fawn. He set it down on the table, bringing out honey just in case he wanted it sweeter; not that he had any clue of that. He smiled and urged him to eat it, wanting to see his reaction to his first real human meal.

~~~

Fawnlock had never seen anything like it. Well, he'd seen inside the cottage last night and this morning, he just hadn't seen the things inside operated so smoothly. Or operated at all. John really was an expert in human gadgets. Fawnlock supposed all humans were, just like he was an expert on the forest. It was his school, he'd learned everything he could out there. Boring. Now this, this was fascinating.  
He watched transfixed as John put down a bowl infront of him, then stepping back to watch the fawn's reaction. Fawnlock inched closer and sniffed the air, his nose filling with the smell of hot milky oats, the pinch of cinnamon adding a perfect finishing touch. He stomach grumbled appreciatively, and he looked down at it curiously. Looking back to the bowl, he inched even closer, sniffing some more. Better get stuck in then, Fawnlock decided. No time like the present. He reached towards the bowl with his hand out and nearly jumped out of his skin when a loud 'No!' came from the counter John was leaning against. Fawnlock looked at him with wide eyes. Well then, how?

~~~

He reached over and took the bowl away from his grasps. It was just prepared and still piping hot. If he hadn’t have stopped him, the poor fawn would have experienced such great pain; more than his ankle injury. He set it back gently on the table, grabbing the spoon laying nearby and lifting it towards the fawn.  
“You never pick up hot foods with your hands! Understand?” He grabbed the bowl and scooped up a bit of the porridge with the spoon; lightly blowing on it when he lifted it to his mouth. John then motion it towards the others mouth. “Here, come on, open up. This is how you eat it, see? You always blow on it. Never dig in too quickly. You’ll burn your tongue and it won’t feel nice.”

~~~

Narrowing his eyes, he studied the spoon. He wasn't a baby, he knew how to eat. He didn't need assistance. If he wasn't so tired, he might flip the spoon so the food would hit the ceiling, but he had no energy, and John was being far too kind for dramatics like that. He'd let John feed him, just this one time. That was reward enough for John being kind, right?  
Fawnlock opened his mouth, and only shut it when he felt the bottom of the spoon touch his tongue. He took the porridge into his mouth and chewed, amazed by just how warm it was. It was like sunshine in his mouth. Mushrooms were never warm. Sometimes he'd eat the odd bird egg that had been recently sat on, but nothing like this.  
He opened his mouth eagerly for the next bite, as John chuckled under his breath.  
In next to no time, John was scraping the bowl and Fawnlock's tummy was happily full. He whined in a way of saying, 'that was nice, but when's bed time?' His eyelids were drooping at different times and he was feeling quite embarrassed by it. Sleeping and eating were usually just obstacles in his life, but here he was, being fed by a human and desperate to get back into a human scented bed. Maybe he was sick. Hopefully not, being sick was an even bigger time waster than sleep and food combined.  
He tugged at John's sleeve, hoping he'd get the hint. At this rate, Fawnlock was going to fall asleep where he was sitting, and that would definitely not do.

~~~

John smiled as he took the hint that the fawn was exhausted; he couldn’t blame him. He got up and grabbed the now empty bowl and set it in the sink with the spoon. He’d have to wash it later or maybe even tomorrow. It was getting late, and the soothing sound of rain outside wasn’t helping the mood for rest. He walked over and picked up the fawn. He wasn’t heavy, but he wasn’t too light either. He wasn’t a child that was for sure. He could tell by his antlers. He walked over to the couch near the fire place, the fire still alive but barely there. It was enough to keep anybody snug as a bug throughout the night. He set the fawn down on the couch, gently putting his handmade quilt on top of him for extra warmth.  
“Look, I know you slept in my bed last night, but I think I could really use it tonight.” He gently brushed the creature’s hair back. “From all todays work, I think my leg cramped up real good. I’m sorry…”  
He smiled and petted him as a small goodbye for the night and made his way into his bedroom; stripping down and getting into his pyjamas before snuggling up against the moderately cold sheets and pillows to drift off into sleep. He warmed up quite quickly and soon was off in another place.

~~~

Fawnlock had tried to sleep. He really had, he'd snuggled down and closed his eyes and expected to be gone in an instant, but something wasn't right. The blanket smelt like the rest of the cottage, homey, but cold. It didn't smell like warmth. A body. He wasn't comforted, he was suddenly aware that he was alone, and he didn't like it. He was fine with it for years. But he'd experienced companionship, and he craved it.  
The dying fire left strange shadows across the cottage, making the appliances and gadgets stretch and contort into weird shapes. He'd grown up in the forest, he wasn't a stranger to the dark. He'd walked past gnarled trees hundreds of times, but he was a stranger to these things, and how did he know they weren't dangerous? It annoyed him to be in a room full of things he didn't understand. He felt mocked, and now he really couldn't sleep.  
John was the answer, obviously. Fawnlock's mind went quiet whilst John was around him. John wouldn't mind if Fawnlock shared the rectangular comfortable thing, would he? It was big enough for the both of them. He wasn't a child, but he wasn't full grown, either. (He hoped he'd get much bigger, and Moosecroft had almost guaranteed it. Apparently he was a teenager, more adult than child. Moosecroft himself was almost at full adulthood. He wondered briefly how his brother was doing, but then pushed that firmly to the back of his mind.) He was only a slight but smaller than John himself. John wouldn't mind. They'd fit.  
Walking with ease across the front room and past the kitchen, Fawnlock padded into the bedroom. (Years of experience stalking animals and people for observation left him very light footed. Extremely handy)  
The room was dark, but not entirely – a few stray moonbeams shone through the window, illuminating the bed. Rain was still lashing down outside, and Fawnlock wondered just how warmer it was inside than outside. In the bed, he could see a lump under the covers, a tuft of hair sticking out the top and two bare feet out the bottom. Fawnlock took a moment to look at Johns feet closely. John wore boots almost always, possibly habit from being in dirty situations so often. His feet were soft and pale, unlike Fawnlock's rough and worn feet, used to walking over rocks, sticks, you name it. Though despite that, their feet were almost exactly alike. Granted, Fawnlock's toes were a little longer, and he was sure his feet would grow in the future, but for now, it was almost as if John was cut from the same cloth as him. They had more similarities than differences. He resisted the urge to reach out and touch John's feet, but the last thing he wanted was to wake him.  
With a final yawn, Fawnlock crawled under the covers at the bottom of the bed carefully, making sure to keep the warmth in as much as possible. Oh, it was toasty under here. He snuggled down, and then opening one eye – he saw those feet, much closer than before. They were so pale, perhaps the moonlight was making it more so, but they looked so cold. He inched closer, and slowly but surely tugged John's feet close to his chest. He curled himself around them, protective almost. He couldn't let John sleep with cold feet, after he'd washed the mud off Fawnlock's earlier? That was just fair.  
He was asleep before he realised it was probably the nicest thing he'd ever done for someone else.


End file.
